i tried to talk with god to no avail

TRIGGER WARNING: if you are sensitive to self-harm, suicide, eating disorders, or anything related to any of these topics, this story isn't for you. Please seek help if things get dire. I love you.

Ikari Shinji

In this life, Shinji is a broken boy.

He's had these…memories for as long as he can remember, but it's never occurred to him until he was fifteen that they aren't just some reoccurring dreams, but actual events that happened many, many years ago.

So, it's very safe to say that Ikari Shinji breaks at the age of fifteen and doesn't exactly know how to fix himself.

Now he's twenty, living with a Misato that doesn't remember anything in a shitty apartment in a shitty part of town. Across the hall is a very aware Ritsuko, who tries her best to get him back on two feet but he's precariously still wobbling on one and has no reason to plant himself back in balance. There is a Kaji somewhere in the world too, but Shinji doesn't know him personally—Misato instead brings him up in conversation every dinner or two. She once said that she doesn't want to bring him around because of how fragile Shinji is.

And, the brunet supposes she has a point.

It's like the aftermath of 2015-Kaworu's death all over again. Shinji is starving himself, but not to the extremes, just enough so that he can punish himself for his sins. He constantly wears long clothes to cover the disgusting scars that mark his entire body; some caused by a knife (or any sort of sharp blade, really), others by a lighter and a few that were a little more…creative, so to say. And he doesn't joke when he says they're everywhere, because they are. It's amazing he still has a little room to hurt himself, but he's starting to think that going over a few old, pale lines and circles isn't such a terrible idea.

He ignores the looks he gets on the streets with everything his body can handle, tunes out their jeering voices with his music, because it's not their business what he's going through. They weren't there, they weren't piloting a giant robot against alien creatures. They didn't kill the only person to ever love them in their fist. He grits his teeth at the memory and curls his fingers into his palm so hard so the pain could reach his wrists.

There's a muffled voice behind him and a tap on his shoulder. He's ready to bitch at whatever person has decided to annoy him, but he pulls out one earphone as he turns to answer the offender. He stops, however, when his blue eyes land on the person and notices who they are. "Forgive me, I don't mean to pry, but you don't look very well."

Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Shinji can feel his entire body go into flight mode; the automatic unwanted response to this situation that plagued his thoughts for years. Kaworu's red eyes are melancholic, and there's no knowing flicker like Ritsuko had when Shinji brought up his past in them. Shinji takes a very careful step back, pulling on the wires of his earphones a little too hard, causing the other to pop out. "No, I'm—I'm actually fine, thank you. There isn't a need—you don't have to worry. I'm alright, I swear—I promise."

Shinji can't ruin him again. "Please, I insist," the albino presses on. "I would feel terrible if I didn't at least…feed you, or—bandage whatever you have going on on your hand."

The brunet looks down at his palm, where angry red crescent moons stare back at him, mockingly, as if cursing him. These hands don't deserve to be anywhere near this Kaworu in front of him, because they're hands that have killed him before and they're hands that can sully him now. Kaworu doesn't deserve any of it.

So when Kaworu reaches out, slow and careful, every single little move like a planned out attack, and takes one of Shinji's bleeding hands into his, Shinji has to do everything to not let his knees buckle. Or, to snatch his hand away because Kaworu is too beautiful and too pure to be touching a mess like him. "Like I said," Shinji tries again, gently pulling away but Kaworu's hand tightens and Shinji stops struggling momentarily.

Kaworu doesn't say anything, but his eyes do the talking, the same bloody red they've been in Shinji's dreams. Shinji feels his heart weaken and the walls around it crumble even a little. "Alright," he whispers, and Kaworu squeezes gently. "Okay."

"I live on the other side of town," Kaworu says softly, falling into step with Shinji easily when they begin walking. "Do you live near here? Ah—and my name, it's Kaworu. Nagisa Kaworu."

"Ikari Shinji." It feels a little weird to have to introduce himself like this, but perhaps Kaworu hasn't yet realized that it's Shinji? After all, it took Shinji a while to realize that what he was seeing in his sleep were memories and not normal dreams. "And, yeah. Yeah, I live over—down the street." He points in the direction of his apartment complex for good measure. "But, again, you don't have to—it's not necessary, I'm honestly…really fine."

"I don't think you are," Kaworu says with a soft smile, and Shinji almost falls to the ground at how beautiful it is. "I just…I'm aware this situation is a little weird, but I would very much like it if I knew you were alright." He reaches up slowly, as if Shinji was a frightened kitten, and strokes his slightly protruding cheekbone. "Your face is so thin…"

Shinji, out of pure reflex, shakes his face away from the pale hand, midnight eyes meeting red. "I'm sorry," he whispers, hands reaching for the strings of his black hoodie and tightening them, closing himself away from the world around him. Kaworu had touched him; touched a disgusting excuse for a human being. And Shinji let it happen. How pitiful. "I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't mean it." Shinji's grip slacks and he looks at Kaworu. For a split second, he forgets how to breathe. "I understand. Sorta."

The pair make it to Shinji's apartment building, and the brunet pulls out his key to unlock the door, before cursing. "Fuck…I don't know if my roommate is home or not. I don't want to make you uncomfortable…with her. She's…a little, how should I say, extra? I don't normally bring people over, so…"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Kaworu says, placing his hand over Shinji's to finish unlocking the door. "After all, I approached you, a complete stranger, with a…let's say friendly air with limited issue. I think I can handle an overbearing roommate."

Shinji lets out a snort, covering his mouth at the ugly sound and looking up at Kaworu, whose smile doesn't falter—instead it widens a fraction, and Shinji barely managed to catch himself when he smiles back. It's a very intimate moment, Shinji admits. Too intimate for his liking, but at the same time, he can't find anything wrong with it. The brunet pushes the heavy door open when the buzzer goes off, stepping inside with Kaworu hot on his heels.

Now that he's inside, safe from the outside world and judging eyes, Shinji feels a wave of nervousness run over him. He has never, not since finding out about his past life, allowed anyone to break down the walls he built around himself. And he was standing here, in the lobby of his garbage apartment building, trying to regulate his breathing so he can remember his room number. Third floor, he tells himself as he straightens his back with a wince, feeling his ribs shift a bit, pulling against his already damaged skin. Room 307, he says to himself, as he gestures for Kaworu to follow him. "We would take the elevator," he says as they pass it, instead heading for the staircase. "But I don't exactly trust it. Last time I went on it, it made…weird noises and I thought it was going to kill me."

Kaworu doesn't respond with words, instead he does it with a hum. One of Shinji's hands slide into his sleeve and begins scraping blunt nails against the scars and cuts there, because he's nervous and this is his habit, as much as he hates it. But Kaworu must notice because he, from behind Shinji on the stairs, gently puts a hand on his arm to stop him. And for some reason, where normally the gesture would freak Shinji out, it instead calms him down a bit. His hand leaves the sleeve in peace.

They make it to Shinji's door in silence, and the brunet prays to the God that has abandoned him already that Misato isn't home. He could care less if she's at a bar this early or at Kaji's—just anywhere other than here. He unlocks the door with a shaky hand and pushes it open to reveal a dark apartment. He was apparently blessed today because Misato can't stand a dark apartment—meaning she left. Thank God. "Um…" He opens the door a little wider, mindful to pull his sleeve back down when it slides up a little. "This is my apartment. It's not…much, but it's home. I guess."

Kaworu steps in like an angel, practically gliding across the threshold and carefully toeing his shoes off to go further into the apartment. "Where is your bathroom?" he asks and Shinji is so surprised because he's been silent this whole trip that he almost falls on his face while taking his nasty sneakers off.

"Down the hall. To your right. Second door." All of Shinji's instructions are coming out like jagged pieces of glass; sharp and small, but Kaworu understands them, probably because he's perfection, and heads to the bathroom. Shinji takes this time to head to the kitchen and poke his head into the refrigerator. Kaworu said he was going to try and feed him, but there isn't much apart from some instant ramen and beer. Because even in a different life, without her memories, Misato is the same as always.

He doesn't hear Kaworu come back in. So he jumps when he feels a hand on his hip, right on the jutted bone, hitting his head on a shelf in the fridge as Kaworu quietly apologizes. Shinji looks up at him with wide eyes, and notices the little container with all his bandaging needs—plasters, antibacterial cream, medical tape. Kaworu must have snooped through the bathroom cabinet, but he did say he wanted to do something about Shinji's hand.

"Take the sweater off."

The brunet freezes as the refrigerator door softly closes. His mouth falls open in shock and he starts to shake his head. "I don't think that's a good idea—it's a little chilly in here isn't it?" He chuckles and wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to make his lie more believable. "Besides, it's just my hands; there's no need to take the whole sweater off."

Stupid! Why hadn't he put on an undershirt? In all honesty, the weather was getting a little warmer and Shinji was more comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt than a long sleeved shirt, but he should have chosen to endure the heat and put on a long sleeved shirt anyway! He backs into the counter when Kaworu approaches, reaching out to place the plastic bin on the countertop. His fingers curl on the hem of Shinji's hoodie, and his eyes remain unchanged. "Shinji. Please."

The brunet gives in, shoulders slumping, and Kaworu begins to pull upwards until the sweater is over Shinji's head, baring his hideous body to the world. His ribs, protruding at every angle, expand when he breathes and his arms are stick thin, covered in pale scars and fresh cuts alike. His stomach is flat, also coated in the same art as his arms, and Kaworu takes all of this in, a pale hand slowly moving to touch Shinji's chest gently, right over his heart. "Thank you," he whispers, thumb gently rubbing against the brunet's skin.

He then lets his hand drift down to Shinji's arm, where he runs over every cut and scar, red eyes sad. "I knew there was more than just your hands. On the stairs—when I stopped you, I caught a look at your nails." Shinji lifts his hand, and stares at the fingers. Underneath his nails, which were normally clean because he liked keeping his hands at least somewhat nice, is dried, crusted blood. "I only assumed from that. However, it seems as though my deduction was correct." He turns the arm in his hands to get a good look at every inch. "This is…worse than I would have imagined, though."

Shinji winces at that.

"…I apologize, that was rude." Kaworu lets go of Shinji's arm and reaches for the cream. "I can't bandage everything," he says, looking more at Shinji's arm than his hand, "because I didn't see any gauze in your cabinet. But I will take care of your hands as promised."

"Shall we move this to the living room?" Shinji asks, surprised at his own confidence that's laced in his voice. "I mean—it would probably be much more comfortable than the kitchen. We can sit, and I can…make us some food? We don't have much apart from instant ramen and beer. Misato doesn't cook much, and frankly—honestly, neither do I."

Kaworu strips off the denim jacket he has on and throws it over his arm, grabbing the basket. "Is that so? I'm not opposed to ramen, even if it's instant. Is that alright with you?"

Shinji shrugs, his bones pulling against his skin in anger. "I'm sure you can tell already. I don't eat…much."

"Yes, but you're eating while I'm here. No arguments," he says with a wink.

Shinji flushes, and shyly sticks his tongue out. "Wasn't planning on fighting with you about it." He's being so calm with Kaworu that it's honestly kind of nerve wracking. This perfect human being is sitting in his apartment, on his couch, and Shinji had the guts to invite him in despite telling himself that he doesn't deserve Kaworu's kindness!

Shinji really hates himself right now. This whole situation is a mistake.

Kaworu sneaks up behind him again, that hand returning to his protruding hip bone and gently pushing the boy to the side, reaching across the counter to grab the teapot to fill it with water in the sink. Shinji stands awkwardly to the side. "Anything to drink?" Kaworu asks, fiddling with the electric stove.

"Nothing but beer," Shinji replies, and Kaworu hums in response. "Misato—my roommate, that is, doesn't drink anything else. I guess you could say she's an alcoholic…"

Kaworu snorts, and then covers his mouth just as quickly as the sound escapes. He visibly flushes red and sort of shrinks into himself. Shinji watches this in awe. He's never seen Kaworu do this, not even in their past life. Back then Kaworu was a very poised individual, who rarely messed anything up. Everything was done deliberately, to the point of absolute perfection. Perhaps that was why Shinji originally fell in love with him. "I'm sorry, that was rude—and quite embarrassing if I do say so," Kaworu says, removing the hand from his mouth. "I'm sure your roommate isn't as bad as you say."

"Oh, she is," Shinji insists. "She and I are such polar opposites. We met when I was in high school. She...she was my school counselor, and thought that my living with my father wasn't good for me. And, really, it wasn't. So I am thankful for her taking me in without me having to pay a fee. I just clean and cook and do all the chores and she's satisfied." Shinji shrugs.

"I see," Kaworu says softly as he takes the teapot off of the stove top. "Where's the ramen?"

Shinji jumps to attention and moves quickly to the cabinet that's filled with ramen cups, taking two out and placing them on the counter. He rips the protective seal off of them and watches as Kaworu pours the boiling water into the styrofoam cups, covering them back up with a pair of chopsticks to let them cool and let the water mix with the various ingredients. Kaworu looks back at Shinji, and Shinji takes in a deep breath. "I feel as though I have been born to meet you," he says, meeting Kaworu's red eyes.

Kaworu simply smiles, with no flicker of recognition at Shinji's words. Those were the words that Kaworu said to him all those years ago. Any possible thought of Kaworu remembering but having the memories repressed for some strange reason goes out the window. Kaworu doesn't remember, and Shinji can feel his entire world just crash and burn. "Really? That's sweet, Shinji," Kaworu says, his pointer finger running up the side of the styrofoam to catch a drop of condensation. He turns back to the brunet and his faint smile fades. "Is something the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You don't remember," Shinji says, covering his scarred body as he hugs himself tightly. "You don't remember me."

"I don't believe I understand what you mean."

The brunet laughs to himself, the sound more forced than he intended it to be. He backs away from the albino when he approaches. "I should have seen this coming...you don't remember a thing? From 2015? The EVAs? The Angels? Nothing?"

Kaworu looks at Shinji with frightened eyes. "I honestly don't know what you are talking about. Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? Am I alright?! Of course I'm not!" Shinji breaks down, tears falling down his face at a rapid pace. "The love of my life, my fucking soulmate doesn't remember me and you're asking if I'm alright? After all we've been through and how much I've suffered this lifetime thinking about what I did to you so long ago...I can't believe this."

Kaworu tries to approach the panicking boy with his arms outstretched. "Shinji, just try to calm down."

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out!" Shinji screams, reaching for whatever he can that's within armsreach, which happens to be a box of cereal, and throws it at Kaworu, running into the living room. "Leave me alone!" He begins throwing whatever he can get his hands on, not caring if it actually hits Kaworu or not. "I hate you!"

"Shinji, what is going on—?" Kaworu ducks as a potted plant flies over his head, the pot breaking when it makes contact with the wall behind him. "Please, help me understand what you're talking about!"

"No!" the brunet curls in on himself and tries to jerk away when he feels Kaworu's hands on himself. But Kaworu's stronger than he looks given his lanky build, and Shinji's not the strongest person because he has no muscles on his bones whatsoever.

"Shinji, I'm begging you. If you don't help me understand what you're talking about I can't help you in return like I promised."

Shinji stops struggling. "You want to help me? Here's how you can help me." In this moment of relaxation, he breaks free of Kaworu's hold and points at the front door. "Leave."

Kaworu's jaw clenches, and he reaches a hand to try and touch Shinji again, but the brunet won't have it, and he backs away. Shinji watches as the albino huffs and turns around, leaving the with a slam of the door, loud enough to make Shinji wince. He wraps his arms around him and cries out loudly, kicking the side of the couch. He notices the jean jacket that Kaworu had left behind, taking it and pushing it to his nose. It smells amazing, and Shinji begins to cry because he just lost what was probably the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. He falls to his knees and sobs out loud, still being careful about not getting his disgusting snot all over Kaworu's jacket. He hates himself more than he has ever hated himself before.

He stands back up and with the jacket still held tightly to his chest, he walks to the kitchen, opening a drawer near the sink and taking out the biggest knife. He looks at it briefly, before pressing the blade to his neck.

The door opens, it's Misato. He panics momentarily, and hears her running in his direction, clearly not bother to take off her shoes.

He's not cleaning her mess. She can clean something for once. He presses the knife harder and the slides it from right to left.

"Shinji!"

author's notes:

before anyone attacks me, this is a reincarnation au. both of these boys have lived as humans. emotions are things you do learn when you're born and raised as a human. so shut ya faces. not taking assholes trying to tell me how reincarnation works this time around.
feel free to attack me about shinji tho. i love hearing people shit on him because it gives me an excuse to heckin fight